


Way Down We Go

by ButterflyPrincess



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: 4am shenanigans, Feelings, M/M, Summer Split 2016, TL 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 03:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11888544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButterflyPrincess/pseuds/ButterflyPrincess
Summary: “What are you doing here”, Josh asks as he finally faces him.“You're the one still up playing League”, Sam answers with a quiet little snicker, his voice toned down and thick with sleep. He smiles tiredly and steps closer, into the little light there is. He leans against Josh's desk, arms crossed and nods his head towards the computer. “Long queue, huh?”





	Way Down We Go

**Author's Note:**

> This was way harder to finish than it should have been but eh, I hope y'all enjoy it <3

They have a point in saying that video games work similar to drugs. That they're just as addictive, just as much of a form of escapism, to ignore problems. And that sometimes you just crave playing like a man alone in the desert craves water because it's everything you have and everything you need.

 

It's all fun and a tale of overly worried adults who don't really understand it, who have only grown up with books to read and trees to climb and maybe an hour of TV a day. That is, until the game becomes more than a way of escaping reality but instead it's reality itself. It's a job, a duty, something people are willing to sacrifice education for, friendships, even family in some cases.

 

But if the game itself is reality, how does one escape? How do you escape a reality that is dominated by the thing you used to use to escape?

 

Josh would love to know that. Because when Loco yells at him day and night and they're losing games they shouldn't be losing in any universe and they tilt on stage and he sees Sam struggle to keep it all together... All he wants to do then is to escape. Maybe he should just read a book in this case or go to the gym or maybe climb a goddamn tree like he never managed to do as a child with limbs too weak and tiny and a console in the living room with game worlds waiting to be explored.

 

But he isn't a child anymore and he can't really get himself into reading and gyms aren't really his thing either. So instead, he just sits down and plays Solo Queue, way more than anyone else in the house. A futile attempt to distract himself with just more of the same thing. Especially when they have just lost a game.

 

Then the hours fly by, everyone going to bed one by one until he is all alone in the training room. He plays game after game then and refuses to take his eyes away from his screen. It's those times when he easily climbs to the top of Challenger, all the while shitting on some idiots on the way there because he just can't help himself.

 

It numbs his thoughts when he just stares at the screen, his fingers flying over the keyboard, quickly and precise in motion, not one move going wrong in this intense state of focus. He doesn't have to think about lost games, close standings and the hatred towards parts of his team when he's kicking ADCs into his bruisers or assassinates one poor bastard alone in a sidelane after another. It's alright then, it's all far away.

 

However, no matter how smoothly it might be going, no matter how many games he may manage to win in a row, sometimes Solo Queue just bothers him with the worst thing to ever grace the face of the earth: _queue times._ Sometimes it just nags on his patience like crazy with the persistent ticking of the clock at the top of the client. One minute. Two. Three. A game pops up, someone declines. Five minutes. Another game pops up, someone leaves Champion Selection. Seven minutes. I doesn't seem to stop.

 

He taps his fingers on the desk, impatiently hypnotising the numbers on his screen as if it would do anything to speed up the process. Every second seems to stretch out longer than the previous one. _Relativity or something_ , he remembers. The one concept they never touched at school. And they wouldn't have if even if he had stayed, it's not like he had never talked to anyone older than him. Not that he had really been invested enough to go beyond the things he had picked up from random documentaries.

 

He hears something, _someone_ , enter even though they didn't really make a noise but if the content humming of a computer is the only thing to hear in the silence, every little step, no matter how silent becomes a small yet glaring disturbance in the silence.

 

He turns his face away from the screen. Only now does he notice how _dark_ the room really is. It's only dimly lit by the blue and green light emitting from his screen and he realizes that's the only thing he has been looking at for hours. His eyes are tired and hurt a little as they have to adjust to the darkness.

 

It's Sam who has joined him, he knows it instinctively. The way he hasn't said anything when entering the room, how he didn't plan on interrupting Josh in his doing. Others would have probably just turned on the lights, asked  _ him  _ first what  _ he  _ was doing or just straight up tell him to go the fuck to sleep already. “What are you doing here”, Josh asks as he finally faces him.

 

“You're the one still up playing League”, Sam answers with a quiet little snicker, his voice toned down and thick with sleep. He smiles tiredly and steps closer, into the little light there is. He leans against Josh's desk, arms crossed and nods his head towards the computer. “Long queue, huh?”

 

“Why are you awake?”, Josh insists, deliberately ignoring Sam's question. He tones down his voice as well. He doesn't really need a party here right now, after all. But regardless, he feels tired as well. A feeling he's ignored for hours now and eventually stopped feeling at all, at some point around maybe 3 am.

 

Sam shrugs. “Dunno. Sleep got light, I thought I heard your clicking, went to check... That easy. Why are you, though?” He raises an eyebrow and looks at Josh skeptically.

 

He's a bit annoyed of himself but Josh can't help but feel like child who's been been caught stealing candy. “Training”, he mumbles because that's at least somewhat true.

 

“You're not getting a lot of sleep lately, aren't you?”

 

Josh curses internally. He blames himself for letting Sam notice that, he shouldn't have let him see. He doesn't want Sam to worry about him. He knows that Sam will worry anyway in any case, no matter what but he indulges in the foolish fantasy that maybe he can keep everything away from him if he so chooses.

 

“Thought so”, Sam breathes, answering his own question.

 

“No need to lecture me on that.”

 

“Wasn't planning to, don't worry. I know you better”, Sam says. “Still, you don't look... happy.”

 

“Why would I be? There's not really a reason to be happy when you feel like a piece of trash.” Josh stops for a moment, not quite believing that he has just said that. It doesn't feel right for him to say something like this straight-up. The words seem foreign to his tongue. But it's 4 am and maybe he is just too tired, too sleep-deprived to really care what he says and what he doesn't.

 

“Did you think about leaving?”

 

Josh doesn't know what to say at first. It's weird to have Sam spell it out like that. The thought about leaving has always been more of an angry day dream whenever everything felt a bit too much. Whenever Loco would put the blame on him for a bad game and whenever it was potentially even justified. Whenever no one would listen to Josh, no matter how reasonable he tried to be about his suggestions. Whenever someone missed practise and just didn't seem to be willing to fully dedicate themselves to their career. Whenever there had been a huge fight with everyone involved and not even Sam was able to pull him back on the ground. 

 

Those are the times when Josh thinks about leaving. He has spent more time than reasonable thinking about  _ how  _ he would do it, too. He could make a scene and lash out at everyone who has ever talked shit about him. Or he could just ask for a meeting with Steve and talked everything out in peace. He could rip his contract to tiny little pieces that no one would have the patience to put back together. 

 

“Yes”, he answers eventually. It's an easy answer to a relatively easy question and yet the word weighs heavy on his tongue as if saying it would make the whole concept come to life in the first place. As if admitting to it is the only thing that could make leaving a valid option.

 

Sam nods slowly. “Would you miss me?”, he asks after at least a whole minute of excruciating silence between them.

 

Josh gulps. He hasn't quite expected Sam to ask this question. Not like this, not this straightforward. He has long since stopped doing those kinds of things. Like starting a personal conversation without Josh being the one to start it. Asking those personal question without Josh being open to it.

 

In the early parts of their friendships he would just do that without thinking. It would make Josh furious beyond reason. He would snap at Sam and tell him to fuck off, slam his door shut for everyone to hear and refusing to let Sam in for hours. Sam had quickly learned that there were times when Josh was willing to talk and that they were rare. He had developed an almost superhuman sense of when the right time was and when it wasn't.

 

Josh doesn't even know if now is one of those moment. All he knows is that it's the middle of the night, dark and silent, the atmosphere is thick and heavy and seems to dull everything out to the point of being unrecognisable. It's washing out the edges of every desk, every shelf, essentially everything in the room, it numbs out Josh's will to tell Sam he's being silly and way too sentimental and why should he miss him anyway? He wouldn't go _that_ far away if he really were to leave.

 

“I would”, he manages to say eventually. His voice barely functions like it's supposed to, his lips almost refuse to form the words properly.

 

Sam smiles, whispers, “That's good.” The sparse light paints parts of his face blue, makes it better visible as a whole and it betrays the melancholic look in his eyes, betrays how his smile is just the tiniest bit unhappy.

 

“I would miss you a lot, Sam. Seriously”, Josh continues, somehow feeling obligated to say more, to offer Sam something more, to make himself understood. At least this once.

 

“But would it stop you from leaving?”

 

“You could always come with me, you know”, he replies curtly. He doesn't want to think about it. Not right now.

 

“You're not answering my question.”

 

“No”, he answers because that's the honest thing to say. He hasn't lied, he would miss Sam. Probably more than he is willing to admit. They are best friends after all, Sam is the one who always tries to keep him sane in this joke of a team. He's possibly the only reason Josh hasn't murdered anyone yet. He's more than just a dear friend to Josh.

 

But would any of that stop him from leaving if he saw the opportunity? If he couldn't stand Loco a single second longer? If he couldn't deal with all of them for another week of lost scrims and angry lectures and disappointing performances? If he received a better offer from another team? If Sam wasn't enough to make him endure all of this anymore?

 

It wouldn't.

 

No matter how close he's grown to Sam, how important he is to him, he couldn't stay with him for the sole purpose of making him happy. He couldn't bring himself to make this kind of sacrifice. Maybe that's a selfish thing to think but if it is then there's nothing to be done about it.

 

“That's okay”, Sam says quietly. He doesn't look Josh in the eyes, instead he looks down, as if he was telling the floor it was okay not to move for a while.

 

Josh laughs bitterly, looking at Sam more intensely, daring him to reciprocate his gaze. “Is it, though? I'm a shitty friend. It's alright to say it, I can take it. You know that.”

 

“Can't disagree, honestly”, Sam laughs, quietly but sincerely, “But if I had wanted a good friend, I would've stayed away from you.”

 

Josh grins to himself because it's moments like this why he doesn't believe in God. A just and loving God would have no reason to bless him with someone like Sam. He would have no reason to bother Sam with someone like Josh. He hasn't done nearly enough good in his life to deserve Sam, not even close. In the end, he's glad that there is no God.

 

“Don't look at me like that. I mean it. I'm glad to have you here just as you are.” Sam meets Josh's gaze before he pushes himself away from the desk. He seems to freeze for just a fraction of a second as if he has to think about something.

 

Josh keeps his eyes on him closely, follows every little motion with his eyes as he starts moving again. He makes two small steps before he's right in front of Josh and kneels down to reach Josh's sitting height. He looks him directly into the eyes, making Josh's stomach drop a bit.

 

“I'd hate you leaving. It would suck major dick, actually.” Sam chuckles nervously. “But as long as you'd miss me at least... That's okay, I guess.”

 

“We should really go to sleep, shouldn't we?”, he adds and rests his arms on Josh's thighs just as the queue finally pops and goes completely ignored.

 

“Probably.” Josh grins playfully. As if he really cares about sleep. They both snicker quietly and it's Josh who notices first how close their faces really are to each other.

 

It's an almost surreal feeling that swirls through the air between them. Josh can't really grasp what might be happening or maybe he's just imagining things and the next thing he knows is waking up with his head on the keyboard and that painful pounding of his heart he has never wanted.

 

But the light breath he feels on his lips seems pretty real. It's warm and gentle. He starts moving then, a bit forward, a little bit closer.

 

“Josh, I...”, Sam starts weakly, his lips already faintly touching Josh's. His eyes flicker all over Josh's face nervously, eventually only somewhat settling on his eyes.

 

“Don't”, Josh commands and closes the last remaining bit of distance, that last tiny tissue of air separating them.

 

Their lips touch carefully, tenderly, with a hint of hesitation. It's not the much talked-about fireworks or the swarms of butterflies, those big explosions of emotion that change lives in the matter of seconds. It's calmer. More peaceful.

 

It's warm, comforting. It's closeness and has a certain intimacy that Josh would have never expected it to have. It feels like home, the feeling you get when you sit in front of a fireplace in winter, the feeling of a smile that lights up your world, even if it's just for a moment.

 

Their lips move against each other carefully, a bit clumsily. It's not perfectly synchronized, it doesn't match perfectly. It's uncoordinated and a bit like trying and not quite making it.

 

But for Josh it doesn't have to be perfect, there's no reason for it to be perfect because nothing about him is perfect, nothing about _them_ is. It's great like that because even when their noses seem to be in the way constantly and he doesn't quite know where to put his hands it still feels just as much like everything he ever wanted but has never been able to put into words.

 

They part slowly, carefully as if the air would break if they rushed it.

 

Josh looks at Sam with clouded vision. He should say something, anything. But there's nothing in his head, nothing making its way through his lips, nothing he can even get close to saying.

 

“Josh, I...”, Sam tries another time, still nervous, a bit flustered even.

 

“You don't have to-”, Josh starts and for the tiniest fraction of a second he's thankful when Sam interrupts him simply by saying his name because he's ninety percent sure he was about to say something way too cheesy that he would have regretted saying one way or the other.

 

But there's just something in Sam's eyes when he says “Josh” like this that make him catch his breath and his heart skip a bit with a pinch of pain.

 

“I... I have a girlfriend”, Sam confesses and breaks eye-contact immediately. There's shame in voice and... guilt and that's what hits Josh the most.

 

It hits him like a brick wall collapsing right onto his face. He could have dealt with Sam expressing any emotion after this moment but not this. Not guilt. Seeing him like this, gaze glued to the floor, face flushed, looking like it would only take moments for the word “guilt” to just manifest itself on his forehead... It hurts. More than rejection would have. More than anger would have.

 

He opens his mouth and closes it without saying anything, suddenly feeling trapped with no air to breathe and no way to get out.

 

“I'm sorry”, Sam whispers, barely audible, “I shouldn't have... It's my fault... I-”

 

“We should go to bed”, Josh interrupts him fiercely, maybe more angrily than intended but then again, he doesn't see a reason to give Sam the benfit of kindness. He doesn't want to hear it, none of it. He doesn't want excuses, he doesn't want hasty reassurances of their friendship. It wouldn't change anything.

 

“Josh, please, I-”

 

“Is it serious?”

 

Sam looks at him confusedly.

 

“You. Are you serious about... her?”, Josh repeats. 

 

Sam nods slowly.

 

“Then you'd better not tell her about this”, Josh says and watches as Sam slowly gets back on his feet. Sam looks back at him, a swirl of emotions in his eyes.

 

Josh can't bring himself to say any more, he just stares at Sam for what feels like an eternity until Sam breathes out heavily and turns his back.

 

“Good night”, he whispers.

 

Josh looks away, doesn't watch Sam leave the room. He can't bring himself to. It's too ridiculously symbolic, it has a cynicism to it that annoys him to his core. He re-centers his attention back to the sccreen in front of him and queues up again, his hand cramping around his mouse as he suppresses a faint burning in his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Btw I finally got myself a Tumblr where I spout about cute esports boys and maybe gonna take some prompts and stuff when I feel like it. Just send me some and I'll see if I can do something with it.  
> Anyway, there ya go: butterflyprincessao3.tumblr.com


End file.
